


The New Nerd

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: LowRes [1]
Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fucking everything up, Humor, Like buckets full of it people, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Nerds in Love, Prequel, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 03:30:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous asked: Any awkward flirting attempts between Lowres and wrench? With a side of self doubting "theres no way she's flirting with me" from wrench? Or did they jump right through to the sexual tension and boat fucking?A/N: Yup. Lots. Feast your eyes! I spent way too much time writing this. I could write more, probably so much more, but then I'd never post it so here's what I've done. I'm sorry. I'm not sorry. <3See tags for warnings.





	The New Nerd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



**-july-zero day-**  
What had two ears, a button nose and greeted him with an adorable ‘A-oh!’ upon first introduction?! - the new girl that’s who. With her thrash band stickers decorating her laptop and backpack stitched with what Wrench could only assume was a clear Hitchhiker’s ‘don't panic’ reference. He was instantly on high alert a.k.a smitten.

The tangled CAT cables running like rainbows around her sweaty neck from DedSec’s test run at the SFPD office made her ridiculously awesome. She was all sorts of ‘too much’ to deal with while he was not only hungover but just a wee bit insecure after the FBI incident that happened no less than a week ago.

Also?! What was she even wearing? - This was a bad time to get a boner, but it also wasn't a place for cute girls with good taste in music and books and whatever else amazing shit she did in those jeans. The jeans had to go - not ‘ACTUALLY’ go but-

One bubble butt in skimpy black panties flashed behind his eyes and just like that Wrench was blasting honk horns and speeding straight to Bonertown! 

Those jeans were so tight she probably didn't even have undies on, Wrench thought with a grim expression, knowing he was broadcasting either mad slashes or underscores, neither of which would translate well when she looked his way, which of course she did after he threw himself on the car hood. He really, reeeeeeeally hoped the half-busted Pier lights and angle of his right thigh would keep his semi from view. The last thing he needed was everyone complaining about how they couldn't take the Wrench anywhere without dicks and explosions at the ready. 

Sitara was all smug smiles and a wave of purple-painted fingers when she introduced the new girl, handing out the final introductions.

Marcus gave a bow and Horatio… that rapscallion feigned a hand kiss like the Casanova he was ONCE AGAIN introduced as. Why did Wrench always get the ‘weirdo’ moniker? Not that it mattered. He liked it, but it'd be nice if this girl came in with the knowledge of Wrench’s own animal magnetism - his, unwavering masculinity with a hint of bombastic sex appeal.

He had some of that, right? 

Wrench wasn't all blisters and bloodshed, or bombs and firecrackers for that matter. He could be a lover AND a fighter. 

The girl sidestepped, smiling like Josh did but way more charming and adorable than anything Josh could pull out of his ass. 

Speaking of asses… 

Wrench eyed the swell of her butt as she twisted her hips, turning her attention to Marcus and Horatio with a polite, interested smile. Her cheeks were still all rosy from the past hour she'd spent doing fuck knows what to get into the cops databases. He’d only been half paying attention and then the rest of the time had been spent watching the security footage over Josh's shoulder, staring at her as she stumbled around the fire escape on her way back down from the rooftop. Wrench had been less curious as to the whys or hows and more wondering what flavor of ice cream she preferred… or what kinda underwear she had on.

New girl tapped a scuffed sneaker heel - a nervous habit probably - and Wrench got a peak or bare hipbone when she readjusted her pack over her shoulder. 

The only place he’d seen jeans that lowcut was in Jimmy Siska’s latest stinker. Leading lady had been a looker, but they always were and this new girl - this new little, short, cute nerdy girl - was certainly Wrench’s type. If he had a type that is. Well, actually fuck that. Types were for suckers… or did he just like smart girls with puffy lips and apple-cheeks and bangin’ bums?

Those cheeks - the face cheeks - definitely did that soft dimple thing when she smiled. Brownie points and pancakes. Man… he was hungry.

She laughed, and Wrench felt his heart rate start to pick up like triggering car alarms used to do. 

LowRes, that's what Sitara called her. Seemed a bit on the bitch side to call someone as HighDef as the new chick somethin’ like that, but if the way she snorted, obviously amused, was any indication, then that was her preferred handle and to each their own. Wrench, having tossed his old name out like roadkill on a summer afternoon, could appreciate that. 

LowRes… it was kinda cute, Wrench thought. Just like her. Fuuuuck man, if anyone could hear his internal thought diarrhea, Wrench would straight up die there on the hood of the car. Errrr… well… if he did that, die and stuff, he’d probably shit himself in front of her, and that was not cool.

Wrench pretended to be focused on his boxcutter, twirling it over his knuckles but he was vigilantly watching her out the corner of his display. She wouldn’t know, plus it was pretty sneaky to catch her looking over at him; eyes trailing down from his chucks to the tip of his hood and imagine she was having similar thoughts. Maybe she liked what she saw - maybe she was getting a case of Wrench fever despite her best intentions?

Dayum, but she was adorable when she pursed her lips like that even if she was doing it because of him. 

Looking at her from twelve feet away vs. twelve inches away were two entirely different things, he realized. Sure, he wasn't a barbarian. He said his greetings and retreated to his safe distance on the car, but there was somethin’ about her that made Wrench feel itchy and warm and kinda manic.

A part of him was hoping to never see her again after tonight. Maybe Sitara would throw her in one of the other hackerspaces. The one in Oakland was far far away. Far away enough that Wrench probably wouldn’t even bump into her. He didn’t mind watching her through her webcam if he wanted to see something pretty… or, if he had enough balls for it, text her for some movie recommendations and then BAM! Girlfriend. Or - no… had to nip that one in the bud before he got ahead of himself. 

Girls like her were not interested in guys like him. Wrench was better off without the opposite sex slowing him down. His little lunch date with the FBI came at the perfect time, right before he had a chance to fuck shit up for the waitress. Chicks were better off without him unless they had a mask fetish and didn’t mind him being suuuper shitfaced. Helter Skelter got him some freak, but the awkwardness afterward didn’t really make the sex all that worth it… plus there was that rash he got that thankfully turned out to be sand burn. 

All in all, Wrench was better off just looking as opposed to… touching.

LowRes smiled, looking shy and exhausted but gave Sitara a fist bump before waving goodbye to Marcus and Josh. Wrench watched her turn to Sitara and hunch with embellished exhaustion as Markey Mark tailed a happy looking Josh back to him and the car.

Boobies, Wrench thought as Low readjusted her tank top around her chest. Pink lips, cute butt, and all her own gear!? - and built herself!? HERSELF!?

His mask must have been glaring something way too telling because M smacked him in the shoulder, jostling his ass on the metal hood and laughed, “Yo! Wrench, see anything good while we was off chattin’? You look like someone changed your password.”

Josh blinked, looking up at the night sky, “The meteor shower isn’t until tomorrow, also… password for what?”

Wrench laughed shittily, shrugging the ill-humored hand off his shoulder. Looking way too smug - waaaaay too sure of himself - Marcus grinned, “Naw, Josh. Masked Cracker over here better get used to the view cause homegirl is bunking with us. She don’t know it yet, but girl’s deeper than Josh is on the cryptography wavelength. Hey-” he turned to Josh with a broad smile, giving him a careful pat on the shoulder, “-no offense of course.”

“None taken,” Josh muttered, looking like a lovesick puppy. Wrench fucking hated that expression... 

So, she really was a smart cookie? Smarter than Josh when it came to all that crypto-shit, and he actually looked smitten? Not fucking cool. What the hell did Sitara think she was doing?! Wrench’s sanctum - his castle - was about to be invaded by a cute girl. What had once been his happy place was gonna turn into a cluster fuck. Wrench decided, as the giddy and husky tones of Low and Sitara disappeared over the hill, that he’d just move back into his garage, which was fine. 

All fine and fucking dandy and ‘a-okay.’

Marcus’ brows did that worrying thing, and Wrench put on a chipper face, forcing the double-carets, and when that didn’t work, and they started trying to hound him, Wrench slid off the car, kicked a trash can over and told them both to ‘get fucked’ before walking off. Not his proudest moment, of course, but he wasn’t super formidable with the ladies, and everyone that mattered knew it.

“Yo, Wrench! C’mon, man!”

“This is BUUUULLSHIT!” Wrench yelled back until Marcus grumbled and Josh said something like ‘should we go after him or-’ until Wrench was too far away to hear more than the stray vowel. He had plans to steal a motorcycle and kick out a rusty pipe from the old water sanitation building down the road - had plans to cruise the Nudle parking lot and smash a few brake lights as well. Nothing like mayhem to feed the testosterone fairies. 

“Goddamn, harpy,” he grumbled as he straddled an Indian, push starting the fucker until it started guzzling. 

Wrench liked Sitara and all, she didn't take shit and could swing a baseball bat like an A-class slugger but she wasn’t too worried about making Wrench uncomfortable, and that was starting to feel like a personal betrayal at this juncture.

 

 **-july-day two-**  
Their newest initiate, the impossibly fetching LowRes, walked around in torn jeans, colorful shirts and… aside from that ass being a major distraction, also spouted off quotes from Futurama and B-movie horror flicks like most people said ‘what’s going on?’ 

Wrench was pretty sure he could pop his dick off of her bum while she talked nerd to him and bust a nut. No… no, no, stop, don’t think about the butt on the new nerdy girl, he told himself, hunched over a steel plate with a power drill in his fist. 

‘Drilling’ glowed behind his eyes in red neon. 

He’ll power drill apple pie cute-face until she was pink in the face and slap his cock off the lower curve of her ass while singing that one song about animals and the discovery channel as Wrench Jr. Jr. made Pollak imitations on her back. 

He needed to beat his meat before he popped a legit boner in front of her AGAIN and made a real ass of himself. This whole ‘situation’ was really messing with his carefully contained libido and barely withheld comments. Usually, any and everything he thought was fair game as far as the whole word-vomit went, but he was a bit too nervous with her around to say anything that wasn’t utterly necessary.

The point was - this one was pretty and smart, and she talked in nerd-code and Wrench realized right quick that he'd have to build himself a Wrench Fort to keep her out of his way before he exploded all over her - and he didn’t mean that in a ‘cum all over her way either.’ He couldn’t handle her shit, especially not now with the threat of the corporate-fed sheep multiplying, heedlessly swallowing the poison Mc’Manbun spoon fed ‘em. The added stress of worrying what he looked like or sounded like to Low was going to light his fuse. He was already high strung and agitated from last night. 

There weren’t enough brake lights in Silicon Valley to satisfy his need for destruction right now. This girl could- shit! Shit… 

… she was coming his way...

Death to the newcomer, he wanted to scream, maybe throw the power drill at the TV as a distraction so he could leap up the stairs and wait this out in his garage until she inevitably got pissed off by Rays antics and scuttled off to whatever coffee shop Sitara found her in. There was no fucking way someone that cute could do any real damage. Sure, she looked legit with her gear and those sleepy bags under her eyes but-

“Hey’hey. What's up, Wrench?” She asked, holding her skinny laptop with one flat palm, looking adorable with a big smile and a vintage red gasoline shirt that hugged her tits. 

Was she even wearing a bra? 

Wrench stared around the back edge of the laptop, blinked and saw the slightest shadow of a nipple. Perky, he almost said but found some string of words and robot squeaks that sounded like a full sentence. The look of confusion on her face made Wrench want to spin on his heel and walk off, but last time he did that she was still around when he found his way back home. 

Naw, he was a grown man. He could handle this, he reassured himself, and then LowRes started asking him something about the showers and he noped on out of there so fast his brain bumped the other side of his skull. 

Wrench didn’t stop, even after the power drill was yanked back from his hand, forgetting it was still plugged in after all, but that didn’t stop him. NO, no it did not! 

Horatio tried to say howdy on the stairs as Wrench fled the scene, but all that got the so-called ‘Casanova’ was a hard shove into the railing. 

Wrench kept walking, kicking garbage and a few people out of his way and by the time he'd stopped walking he was in the park with a frozen banana and a dog sniffing at his chucks. 

His life was fucking ruined.

“Fuuuuuuuuuucccccck…”

 

 **-july-week two-**  
“Hey, pssst… Marcus,” Wrench asked his fellow compatriot under a hushed tone which definitely meant this was on the down low, about Low…Operation LowDown… and the raucous reply M gave him was super not-cool. So, when Wrench hopped up out of his ninja crouch to drag Marcus under the table with him, it wasn’t really his fault for the egg he got on his head. If he’d just been all hush-hush like he was supposed to, then all would be well, and Wrench ALSO wouldn’t have had to clamp a grease-stained hand over Marcus’ mouth either. 

For being the outside heavy, he really needed to take lessons from Fistenberg on his ninja skills, because they were evidently lacking.

“Uh… man, what are we doing? What the fuck?” Marcus finally asked under his breath, pointing the laptop that was currently bypassing Low’s firewall. 

At least he whispered this time. About time. Jeesh, shout much? Marcus looked like he was about to comment on the Wrench Fort, which was basically a spray-painted flag laid over the conference table but Wrench made do with five minutes and what he had on hand.

“Okay, so look,” Wrench started, nodding to his open laptop, modulator clicking to compensate for the sneaky tone of voice “I’ve hacked into LowRes’ laptop-”

“Dude, you ‘can’t’ be doin-” M tried, but failed when Wrench put a finger to his lips, gallantly shushing him with a glare, also mad-slashes, and directed him back to his soda stained, burnt-keyed laptop on the floor.

“We don’t say the ‘c’ word here, Marcus. It’s a rule, look it up - so,” he tapped the screen, as I was saying…”

Wrench ignored the way Marcus grimaced as he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. Instead of keeping quiet, Wrench wiggled his finger and clicked a hotkey - going against ninja code - and exclaimed dramatically, “BEHOLD!”

A window of sub-folders popped up on the screen and on the sofa, all the way across the room, Low turned her head at Wrench’s mighty bellow. She blinked, glared at the stairs and shrugged; nose deep in crypto shit with Municipal Waste blasting out her phone speakers. 

Wrench's lips curled. She was so cool…

Marcus sighed, waving at the screen, “This is so fucked up, man. The-these better not be pictures or Sitara’s gonna freak…”

“Dude,” Wrench mused, “you think? - me? Pfff… look,” he scrolled through a folder of mp3 files, “this is her whole music collection! Look, look here. She has every single Black Flag album and most of these?! - she actually paid for!? Do you know what this means?”

“Uh, no?” Marcus clearly did not grasp the intensity of this realization or the situation at hand. 

Wrench leveled with him, resting a hand on his shoulder in a way that should have conveyed how deeply disappointed he was, but instead it might have weirded Marus out just a wee bit because he looked very very worried.

“Black Flag, Marcus…” Wrench explained, and then when he just wrinkled his nose, Wrench lowered his voice and nodded to the screen, “Look… these files prove that LowRes is the coolest person ever. She’s way cooler than you.”

Marcus scoffed, looking underneath the dip of the DedSec flag cocooning them below the table and then back at Wrench’s display with a raised brow.

“Cooler than me?” He asked, super serious. 

“Waaaaay cooler.”

“...hmph,” Marcus exhaled, chuffed and grinned, “So, I guess this means you don’t wanna throw her out anymore then, huh? You got yourself a little crush, doncha? Wanna get all up in them jeans.”

Wrench glared mad-slashes but ended up tipping his head down and nodded eagerly. No point in denying in - not with Marcus at least. 

“Shit,” M breathed, “Guess you don't gotta worry about creepin’ that waitress out anymore.”

“... I wasn't being creepy,” Wrench mumbled, trading looks between the streaming list of her music downloading to his HDD and Low bobbing her head to dirty thrash. Well, maybe he was being a little creepy now, but potato poh’tah’toh, right?

If Marcus knew he had a thing for the new girl then fuck... that was fine. Not ideal, certainly, but Wrench needed to brag about how awesome she was to someone and M wouldn’t judge him for having a bit of a thing for LowRes… or a big one. 

Wrench had jerked off... OooH! about twenty times since Sitara introduced her to everyone and it’d been a little over two weeks since then. That was a lot of jerking off, and every load had Low’s name all over it. 

Fuck, actually that sounded awful even to him...

“Can we umm… keep this on the down low,” Wrench asked, sounding a bit more embarrassed than he wanted, certainly more than he was or should have been. 

“Pun intended obviously,” he added on a whim, needing to attach something less sober to the moment. Thankfully Marcus got it, mimed zipping his mouth shut for added effect and left Wrench with a solemn pat on his back to keep marveling over her music collection. 

It was at that time, as he combed through her laptop files and found more and more stuff about her, that Wrench started getting… passionate. 

 

 _-july-month one-_  
There was honestly no one else that looked or acted like Wrench - you could say that with full sincerity and not be selling the dude short, but he was all chaotic energy with weird electric looks and the stray dirty phrase to Marcus or whoever would listen. In fact, he seemed pretty eager to be as depraved and lawless - just like the anarchy ink on his neck established - with everyone except you. 

Not you. 

Oh no, fucking forbid your 'virgin' ears got a dose of the real Wrench. Instead of gleeful cackles and pervy undertones, you got the cold shoulder, or you got an incoherent mess that said he was too busy working on whatever he was dismantling or ‘building’ to give you a second glance. If he wasn’t ignoring you, then he was throwing shit around every time you tried to talk to him, and after a while, you sorta gave up. 

It would have pissed you off - his exclusion of you - if Sitara hadn’t already warned you it’d take awhile for Wrench to open up. He had a problem with the opposite sex, and at first, you thought maybe he might have some more serious issues than you'd initially thought, but a DedSec hosted party quashed the darker theories. Seeing Wrench fumble with at symbols decorating his mask, as a girl hit on him, lent him a much more 'onion-layered' persona.

Dude wasn't all punk and memes...

A tall, busty redhead was hitting on him, pushy and mean looking and not taking no for an answer. Wrench stumbled backward, reaching for a barstool but pawing a guy in the shoulder instead. A shouting ruckus threw up, and you cringed at the near-fight that broke out. Drunk and uncomfortable, Wrench searched the mixed crowd with question marks and double-zero’s. 

Taking a sip of water, resolving yourself with sober courage emboldened by a desire to keep your new family members out of ‘harm's’ way, you peeled off the booth seat and played the knight in shining armor.

Sure, nothing terrible was going to happen from a little flirting, but the way she tried to bump her hip into Wrench and the way he tensed under her hand on his arm spoke of something more than that. He was clearly shitfaced and while the girl looked a little drunk, not nearly as much as he was. Imaginary red flags wrinkled and clack before your eyes, arrows in bright neon bulbs pointing at Wrench with a big ol' 'help' sign flashing. 

You couldn’t just sit around, people watching while Wrench suffered through awkward social interactions and a very pushy - sorta rapey -girl came onto him.

So, you did what any soon-to-be-friend would do - you stepped in and played the pissed off girlfriend for him. It wasn't a very creative plan, but it worked in movies, right? This chick seemed like the type to turn her 'affections' into jealousy anyway, and that could work for him. Maybe not you, but hell... at least Wrench wouldn't be taken advantage of tonight.

“Hey, lady," you barked and immediately felt your brain flinch, "Can you not take a hint or something?” 

The level of annoyance you expressed must have been a bit much, or maybe the fact that she was like... over a foot taller had something to do with it because the redhead blanched, lowering her hand from the studded line of Wrench’s shoulder. The tense air rapidly lessened and Wrench, stumbling over his feet like a walking, talking beer keg, threw his arm around your chest like he was planning to put you in a choke hold but was too drunk so settled on a hug instead. The contact was hot, abrupt and did more than throw off your equilibrium.

"My flower! - of DEEEEATH!" Wrench screeched right at the back of your head - so loud his voice modulator skipped a few decibels, leaving your ears ringing. The relief you'd have expected in his voice wasn't there, but he did sound... happy? - nothing like the squeaky mumbles you'd been getting all this time.

Wrench chuckled and tugged you back against his chest, playing along and probably trying to keep himself off the floor at the same time. You did your best to shake off the warm vibes as the hard line of Wrench's forearm squashed your breasts in. The touch was way too familiar, but he was hammered, and you were saving him after all and getting between a bitch in heat and someone like Wrench came with certain dangers.

“What-what are we doing?” Wrench slurred under his breath - the mask making it sound like he was whispering down a thin tunnel. 

“You?” The girl accused, as if to say ‘bullshit, you wish, bitch’ in disbelief. So, it was the short thing then and not your own annoyed tone of voice. Figures, you thought, wondering if you could win a catfight with someone as tall as her. You settled on 'no' but held your ground as Wrench used you as his anchor from the beer-sticky floor.

In an act of mild panic, you searched the crowd for Sitara but found nothing but a few people staring while the rest carried on within their small bubbles. There were more hackers here than groupies, but you were still too new to be certain anyone would stop a fight over egging it on.

Fuck… the last fight you’d been in was… middle school. If you got a black eye over protecting Wrench’s virtue, you were never gonna live it down.

Behind you, Wrench wiggled, filtered breath warming your scalp. He laid his hand on the top of your head while this chick - hell-bent on seducing a shit-faced Wrench - shifted, took a step forward and then back. She looked suspicious, but the loose arms at her sides said she probably wasn't gonna throw a punch.

“Feast your eyes!” Wrench blurted, obnoxiously loud - dial turned up to eleven - as he stumbled back, pulling you off balance until his back hit the bar and your butt landed in his crotch. 

Oh, fuck this, you thought, feeling your face start to throb with heat. Fuck this, noise. Did Wrench have a fucking boner?! - pressed against your butt?!

“THIS!” Wrench continued, pausing to pat the top of your head a few times, “is my girlfriend - behold… the-the… my girlfriend!”

A throaty grunt against the back of your head drained all the color from your face. This - this right here - was why it was better for you to just keep to yourself. Wrench would have been fine! Fuck - shit, what had you been thinking? Was that an extra-large snickers bar or an erection? - you still couldn't tell, and honestly, you were way too outside your element to focus on it when the chick was suddenly up in your face.

The redhead, breathing evaporated jager bombs, looked weirded out and unconvinced and... really fucking close. She eyed the both of you as if weighing whether someone like Wrench would date someone like you. Obviously, he wouldn’t, but you could see the realization slowly cross her face - knowing that Wrench was probably way too drunk to fuck or… whatever she’d had planned. 

As if the great spaghetti monster had intervened, tapping the tall-hot-redhead-girl in the back of the head, you and Wrench were left alone bent back against the bar, looking ridiculous. 

"I really hope that's a candy bar," you mumbled, watching the girl weave through the crowd and disappear. 

Behind you, Wrench snorted. Of course, trying to jump in and make friends with Wrench by saving him from herpes got you plastered to his chest as he petted you like a cat and hummed something sounding suspiciously like ‘eye of the tiger.’ 

It was there, with Sitara appearing over the people-heads, watching from the karaoke stage, that Wrench tightened his arms around your tits, dragged you closer until the spikes on his mask tickled your scalp and growled drunkenly, “Are you coming up-on… onto me? - cause, “ another head pat and sonic sigh, “that-THAT! - would be sweet.” 

The little bumps of dull metal as he talked felt like electric currents feeding through your hair and…

... fuck, now you had a little crush on Wrench and knowing your luck, he won't even remember this in the morning.

 

 **-october-month four-**  
Wrench itched at an old pizza sauce stain on his jeans, still wet with lava soap from his bathroom scrub session. He should have just taken a shower, but Marcus said he smelt 'okay' - so why did he feel like a walking, talking, manifestation of grime and teenage-boy-stank? Probably because he hadn't changed his clothes in a week and the last time he'd been outside the HQ was to climb the old water tower out by Oakland with Marcus on that one cTOS shitstorm.

The ladder had old bird poop on it if Wrench recalled the memory right. Sure, he'd washed his hands and all that but… he should have showered… 

“Wrench, come on man! She's out there now with ‘im. Go say something.”

“... eeeee,” Wrench thought better about that and kept glued up against the wizard statue in the back. “Look, M… you know how I love our little bromance situation but I'm getting major vibes that this is a setup.”

Marcus buckled - glasses tickling down the bridge of his nose - looking like someone just gave him a gargantuan orgasm or the worst insult, “How dare you, sir. I would never make you look foolish in front of yur secret crush.”

“Shut up,” Wrench grumbled, feeling unpleasantly agitated and sick to his stomach. If he puked in his mask again, he'd need to make a whole new one, and there wasn't time for that - not with Mc Manbun waltzing around like his dick wasn't all warty and small. Definitely small.

Across the game store, Low smiled at the enemy, thumbs in her jean pockets and - how did she not noticed the guy staring at her tits?! It wasn't even fucking subtle. When Wrench did that no one else knew about it! He was pretty sure no one did...

Buttface said something and LowRes laughed, looking so damn cute Wrench wanted to throw a mallet into the guy's blemish-free face. 

For all of Marcus’ reassurance that she didn't find him - The Wrench - disgusting, what really had she done to prove she even liked him beyond platonic compadre-ship? Low put up with him, sure. She laughed at his jokes and wasn't afraid to glare at him when he went too far. But… shit, Sitara did that, and she definitely didn't wanna ride the Wrench train anytime soon… not that Wrench was interested even if Sitara was, which she wasn't. 

“Yo, you scared?” Marcus asked, sounding genuinely concerned and not at all helpful. 

“I’m not scared,” Wrench shot back, sounding terrified even behind the voice mod. Next time he was alone, Wrench was gonna up the bass on the audio settings. Maybe it’ll hide his nerves since Low was here to stay and nervous was gonna be his M.O. for awhile until he either A: stopped thinking about her all the fucking time or B: stopped thinking about her all the fucking time. 

“It looks way worse ya know, you, balls deep in that statute an’ all,” Marcus tried, but Wrench was having a hard time ungluing his chucks from the floor, let alone his crotch from the plastic wizard and his plastic spellbook. Pretty sure the company that made the statue didn't even use proper lore runes, because it looked suspiciously like the Yautja countdown from the first Predator movie...

A soft laugh pulled Wrench's eyes off the fake book and back across the store, landing on Low with her hands on her stomach, chuckling.

“Oh, my god. Marcus. Have you seen those eyes?” Wrench demanded under his breath, “She’s gonna make me a warm stain on the floor without lifting a tire iron.”

A sudden, super hot mental image of Low bustin’ heads with a crowbar made his balls feel warm and prickly. Oooh, fucking goddamn, that one was gonna go in his spank bank for later.

“Actually, that’d be hot,” Wrench agreed with his brain, “I’ll need you to strategically place a blunt weapon near her hand - let’s say a few inches give or take from arm's reach - and I’ll say something about the Freddie vs. Jason Universe thinking about incorporating Pinhead into the franchise. She’ll fucking flip.”

Marcus didn't look all that interested. “... yeah, or ya know… you could just go talk to her before she goes out with some guy that doesn’t even like video games,” Marcus muttered, already ignoring him for something on his phone. Wrench was almost insulted, but he had bigger fish to fry and tiny ladies to woo.

“What?! That's crazy. She loves video games… “ Wrench was only half-hamming it up. Low had one-hundred percent achievements in DOOM and all the Alien and Predator games, knowledge courtesy of her steam account and a bit more digital snooping on some older console tags. 

“What does she even see in him?!” Wrench whined, hugging the wizard all the tighter. 

“Same thing you see in that waitress? - or saw? I dunno, man. Jus’ go talk to her,” Marcus smirked, looking unflatteringly smug. He'd been wearing that tone a lot lately. Later, when the situation wasn't so DEFCON four, Wrench was gonna mention it to him. Right now though, he needed M for damage control. 

“Go,” Marcus waved his hand, “I gotcha back.”

“Yup. Yessss…” Wrench peeled himself off the statue, padding down his pockets. He was ready with the box cutter if the cops busted the door down and he had to knife fight his way out with a clingy, LowRes-damsel around his chest. 

“This is totally normal, and I have totally got this," he pepped, "Totally. In the bag!”

But Wrench didn't have it in the bag and ended up walking right past her and tool-face, throwing a shelf of boxed action figures down to the floor with a loud clatter as if the destruction had been his original goal all along. Amidst the mayhem, Wrench was pretty sure he heard Marcus sigh and Low call out after him, sounding dazed and concerned and so sweet… which only made him feel more worthless and way more shitty. 

Wrench found himself, an hour later, sitting at the donut shop, staring at the waitress while his hot coffee started to chill the twitchy bones in his fingers. 

He must have been glaring mad-slashes or something because the waitress avoided him, but Wrench didn't really wanna talk to her or look at her much anymore anyways. She was cute, STACKED, but… she didn't play video games. She didn't listen to thrash or know how to decode Leni’s viral hacks as quick as Josh did. She wasn’t a LowRes, but she was too friendly to be used as Lows replacement either. If she even still wanted anything to do with him after standing her up, of course.

If Wrench stopped staring like a fuckin’ creeper, he could probably get down on that. The waitress liked him - wanted to go out for some beers and that band showing before the FBI wrangled him up and ruined whatever self-confidence he’d mustered. 

He imagined taking her out, wooing her until she wanted to blow him, maybe fuck him even. She was hot and all but… every time Wrench pictured getting a hummer from her, he imagined Low’s lips kissing his stomach instead, licking the tattooed ‘W’ on his inked in name before running those white teeth down the edge of his hip bone. Low would suck on his neck, say something sensual and honest against his ear until he’d take off the mask and taste the inside of her mouth and it'd be sweet and intimate; like something he'd never felt before. 

“Did you want another coffee?”

With the fantasy ruined, Wrench shook his head, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact - or whatever equivalent the mask provided - with the concerned looking waitress, threw four bucks on the counter and walked out of the coffee shop about as fast as he had outside of the game store. It felt like all he'd been doing lately was running away and it was making him feel pathetic; weak. 

Wrench didn't need old reminders, and so he absolved to ignore the butterflies Low gave him or his stupid amped up sex drive and any lovey-dovey needs especially.

There was nothing he couldn't supplement with dynamite and vandalism - or so he told himself. 

Wrench made sure to throw all his energy into fucking up the corporate establishment, maybe piss on their dogs while he was at it too. In any case, Low was gonna be his friend and nothing more. Things were easier that way, and she was too awesome to waste her time on someone like him, even if she got it in her head that she wanted a piece of anarchy.

Best friends forever, Wrench thought; miserable and lonely.

 

 _-november-month six-_  
The distant sounds of smashing glass and metal getting pummeled under something heavy, wielded by someone full of piss and vinegar, alerted you to a possible problem. You could hear the electric screeching grunts and angry shouting half a block away. Sitara was right, Wrench had fled to his garage for whatever reason. Not that you needed one, you reminded yourself. 

He wasn't subtle, though, but no one else on the sidewalk seemed particularly bothered by the noises of industrial carnage and destruction. Maybe it wasn't all that uncommon. 

When Sitara said he was in his garage - said it like it was some catastrophic level four situation - you added that up with the fact that this was Wrench’s third outburst this week, and decided he needed some TLC. You dropped everything and went down to Cheesy Barn, hit the convenience store and ‘borrowed’ Sitara’s bike to bring him a care package of energy drinks and warm chili fries.

If this level of caffeine and grease didn't turn his mood around, then nothing would. 

Outside the alleyway, you skidded to a halt on the rusty old bike, hearing another loud clatter as if a small explosion of metal had bloomed, pieces pinging off the cement ground. Hard, distant vibrations, waving the air between the cement walls, spoke of some of the debris clattering off the aluminum garage door. 

Mimicking the motions of someone much more stealthy than yourself, you sat the bike against the graffiti-stained wall, holding the bag of goodies close and turned the corner into the alley.

Wrench was there, shoulders high and rising against his heavy breaths; back turned to you with that mallet hanging in one hand. The glimmer of sweat coated the veins that stood out over his knuckles; clouding the tattoos with reflecting sunlight. You pause, feeling that short pang of desire Wrench had a habit of bringing about and watched at his arms bulged under the hoodie. 

He swung the mallet to the side, busting the sidewall on a computer tower that was already past wrecked. You didn't recognize the brick, so maybe this was Wrench expunging anger the way he needed and not disposing of some enormous porn collection or… incriminating evidence against him for some crime, of which you're sure there are many. 

You gave him several more minutes. Just to vent, you told yourself, as you leaned against the back wall of the alcove and watched Wrench’s shoulders work beneath the patched vest; raised studs stabbing in the afternoon sun. 

His chucks skidded on the trashed cement, bracing past shoulder width apart and with a sound like some super pissed ghost-in-the-machine, you bit your lower lip and watched him drag, heave and slam the mallet down on the tech so hard it sprayed shattered chips of the motherboard clear across the driveway. 

A little piece slapped into the wall by your head, forcing a short peep through your fixed teeth.

Fuck. Cover blown, you thought with a deep blush as Wrench spun around - the wood handle on the mallet clattering to the ground. He blinked mad slashes, half drowned out by the sun coating him like a varnish and then, once he realized it was just you - just harmless ol’ you - Wrench huff with electric chatter and turned double-x’s to the broken tower on the ground.

“So,” you started, feeling like a peeping tom for some reason, “Sitara said you were pissed about something, so I got you chili fries with extra hot sauce… and uh-”

Wrench kept his back to you, and a weird, almost depressed tang filled the space between you both. In all the months you've known him, you’ve never seen him upset... not really at any rate. Sure, Wrench got pissed and threw shit around, and his outbursts didn't make a whole lot of sense most times, but he'd never seemed… sad? It seemed impossible for someone like him. 

“I-shit…” you weren't sure what to say, but the mild arousal his effortless destruction of the tech had caused, was fast fading into empathy. You’d never been all that great at offering comfort or whatever it is people needed to vent, but Wrench was your friend, one of your best friends and you were willing to make a substantial attempt even if it ended up backfiring.

After a steadying breath, you shoved off the back wall, daring to walk through the tiny cityscape of metal, plastic and tinted electronic glass in your worn converses, “I could feed you and hit the road? - or I could listen if you wanna-”

Wrench twisted at the neck, throwing one mad slash at you before you caught your words and rehashed the offer, “-no, okay… smash stuff? You can eat chili fries, and I’ll drag some ‘paperweights’ out here for you to dismantle. How about that?”

LED anger quickly shifted into confusion and then, just as quickly the double-x’s were back, and Wrench's shoulders lifted in a cute shrug that was just as embarrassed as it was eager.

“That,” Wrench dragged out with a lilt, “... might work.”

You smiled, grinning wider when his mask blinked double-carets and with new purpose, you shoved the bag of goodies in his arms and went about selecting dusty tech-dinosaurs for a smash session. If he needed to destroy stuff, then you had no qualms with helping him in that regard. Sometimes it was better not to talk, but to do, and Wrench was all ‘do.’ Whatever was bothering him was still there.

His emotes kept twitching to sad-slashes, sometimes he'd look at your with stars, but he didn't divulge a word, and that was alright. If he wanted to talk he would, but you weren't gonna push him. Besides... few things were as fun as watching Wrench take expensive, old hunks of tech and turn them into piles of electronic gravel.

The wiry strength and raw grunts were just an added bonus while offering Wrench, one of your best friends and nothing more, an outlet.

It might have been your focus on his mayhem or the sun bouncing off the glass display, but you were blissfully ignorant of the hearts aimed in your direction... 

 

 **-christmas-month seven-**  
There was nothing quite like a bit of group reconnaissance to lighten the mood. With Horatio out of the grave, bearing a fresh cast decorated with some very elegant scribbles from Wrench, the beers were piling up, and everyone was having a damn good time. Being drunk killed his boners too, so he resolved to use the liquid courage and fluid neuter to hang around Low all evening, even if she looked peeved once or twice by some of his more 'unfiltered' humor. 

She was working, of course, even though ‘reconnaissance’ was a pretty way of saying everyone was gonna maaaaaybe keep one eye on the monitors and everything else in smash and bash mode. 

“Come’on, LowRes! - pop that fucker down and have a mother fucking beer,” Wrench grinned, throwing her double-carets and a fetching digital wink that distracted her just long enough for him to knock her laptop close. 

Low pursed her cold bitten lips, looking annoyed and flustered and all sorts of adorable. 

“Sitara already fed me a shot of something that tasted like raptor piss... or what I imagine rotgut must taste like,” she grumbled, fingering the edge of her laptop while Wrench hummed drunkenly and, bracing the glass neck against the rim of the table, popped the cap off another beer. For a second, the reflection in the brown glass doubled, but a few blinks stabilized the world once again. He might have been drunk, but he wasn't shit faced yet. 

“I'm not thirsty,” Low tried again, eyeing the beer like it was a facehugger, but Wrench bumped the bottle against her rosy cheek, watched her tense and gasp at the cold and decided she was even cuter when she was angry. 

He'd been pretty good the past couple of weeks. Didn't find himself tripping over his own fucking feet when Low smiled at him anymore and when she felt like getting a dose of Wrench wisdom, he didn't throw shit around or run off. In fact, dare he say? - they’d become pretty good pals in the last few months.

LowRes glared at him; cheek smooshed against the wet beer bottle. “Oh my god, dude,” she rolled those almond-shaped eyes and shoved the beer out of her face, ignoring him for her sticker-painted laptop again, “Drink it yourself you technocrat.”

She opened her laptop back up, kicking an elbow in his ribs like a weakling. The camera feed on her screen was devoid of Tezcas, as expected, but that didn't stop her from looking completely engrossed with those slim fingers laid over the keys, ready to go as soon as shit hit the fan - it wasn’t gonna. Those d-bags didn’t go out after dark unless they were collecting hooker money or pissing around with other side deals. They weren’t gonna be casing old meeting spots with crooked cops when there was easier money for them to pick up elsewhere. Wrench had to hand it to those shitheels, they knew easy money when they saw it.

“You reek by the way - like gas station cigars and natty lights.”

“Awwwwww… did someone shit in your coffee this morning?” Wrench asked, feeling at one with the world and carefree like only booze could do because otherwise, he wouldn’t have thought it was cool to throw an arm over Low’s shoulders when he apparently reeked of failure and pull her in for a tight, spiky hug. LowRes deflated against him - elbow on his stomach - grumbling about how ‘hackers be hackin but wrench be wreckin’ or some shit but it was super cute, and Wrench just cackled and hugged her harder, shoving the beer bottle against her cheek again until she groaned in defeat.

“Ugh, fine!” she whined, grappling around his fist, peeling his fingers off the beer until she was staring into his display, looking dazzling in his HD lens and took a full swing of alcohol. 

The way the collar on her thermal wrinkled as her throat worked around the liquid nearly brought hearts to his mask. 

Wrench could feel his eyes go all dopey but blinked several times until his face relaxed; emotions falling back into a drunken daze with no threat of the billboard betrayal to be seen.

Being drunk was a double-edged sword when it came to her, he realized that pretty quickly, but at least he wouldn't pop a woody.

Peerblock programs were the conversation of the evening with her, but Wrench had too many beers speeding through his bloodstream to follow that brainiac chain, so, with an epic level of ‘smooth’ Wrench asked her what her favorite shitty band was, doing his best to keep his fingers out of her hair. 

“Didn’t you already ask me this?” Low mused, sounding a little smashed already.

She smelt good… sorta like fireball whiskey, but that could have been from the cinnamon cookies her and Sitara sat with in the van all morning. Those cookies had been for Josh, though and 'NO ONE ELSE.' They’d made that explicitly clear even though Wrench stole one… or several. The memory of that sweet mastication was making his mouth water, smelling the same thing from her floofy hair. 

“Alright, fine... a gun to your head, what’s the biggest buttfuck of a movie that you still watch?”

LowRes smacked her lips, licking them unconsciously and smirked. Yes, she was letting loose now. Just what she needed! All work and no play made Low a dull girl - well... not dull, never dull... but a weeeeeee bit uptight.

Wrench felt his stomach tumble a little - felt himself draw a little closer to her without realizing it until her breath was grazing the anarchy tattoo, but he swallowed the itch to tug on her hair as she took three hard swigs off the beer, laying the damp bottle base on her thigh.

“Like, unironically?” she asked.

“Yup.”

She spared a look around the hackerspace, bouncing her shoulders back and forth, head swaying to and fro in that way she did when she was thinking if she should say something or not. 

“Mortal Kombat, but nostalgia plays a big role in that - just, man… that dialogue,” she fake shuddered, “major cringe.”

“You said Mortal Kombat last time, ya know? To be fair! - you may have had a couple of beers then too. Keep telling me lies, and I’m gonna start thinking you like rommie-commies.”

She gasped, fake disgust rolling up her chest as she clapped a palm over the side of her face; lips open wide, “I'd never! How dare you even insinuate such blasphemy?” and then less hammy, with the beer lip resting against her chin, “Seriously, don't even joke and also, I’m not the one that liked the last Jimmy Siska movie.”

Ooo, ouch. 

“Alright,” Wrench declared, “you dealt me a mighty blow there, but you also gave that stupid antarctic monster movie a literal applause.”

Low cringed, throwing an elbow up on the table, dropping her temple in her palm with an audible slap, “Ugh… I did, didn’t I? I mean, in my defense the practical effects were cool looking, just… everything else sucked dick.”

“Except dick sucking is awesome, and that movie just sucked,” Wrench grinned, throwing her double-carets, winked and tugged her further in so he could finger gunned her nose until she finally, FINALLY, laughed. Her cheeks went red and her eyes watered, making them shine and nothing sounded as good as her giggles or the idea that he was close enough to lift up the mask, reach a few inches forward and kiss her. 

Thankfully, Low elbowed him, called him a ‘perv’ and finished off her beer, and everything felt right - back to normal. His balls tingled, and his dick felt a little stiffer, but it wasn’t pulling a tent tonight. Fluid neuter for the mother fucking win!

He could do this, Wrench thought with a soft smile as Low giggled and started talking shit about Cyberdriver even if he would have argued with anyone else over it. 

Wrench could just be friends. Bullshitting with her was as much fun as blowing shit up, bustin’ heads and taking down enemy number one. Being with her, just joking and drinking and trading jabs, was better than one night stands while shit faced, better than anything that waitress could offer him and Low’s friendship meant just as much to him as the one he had with Marcus… maybe even more because, while he no doubt annoyed her to no end and she gave him boners and heartaches, she understood him on a level no one else had. 

Wrench was all too happy to stay friends - to jerk off to her only when he really really needed to and never say anything about the ‘more than friends’ feelings he had for her. 

He was content, or at least he told himself he was… that is until a month later when she started hanging out with that tool-face again… getting close and not looking as uncomfortable about it as she should have. 

It was a chilly evening in late January when Wrench got a text from her, about her needing a ride on the same night Marcus said she had a fucking date with doofus and Wrench took the opportunity to save her from a failed hookup - to have her alone with him for a few hours. 

All to himself! - maybe for as long as possible until she snapped, unable to handle the raw intensity that was Wrench in all his jealous glory.

The point was, Wrench was gonna play it cool, keep the mask from showing her his disgustingly lovesick inner monologue while getting the ATM’s hacked aaaaaand… spending time with her after ‘date night’ had apparently gone up in flames. 

Of course, before picking her up, he took a hard turn down an empty alley, unbuttoned his jeans and stroked Wrench Jr. Jr. until he came with a knee bounce, hips thrust, and robotic sigh. Had to prep for an evening with LowRes… all alone and fuckin’ up financial burdens. 

On the passenger seat, his phone did a ding. 

With a handful of cum, Wrench leaned over and eyeballed the screen with a lazy, orgasmic grin, ‘Wrench! Shake your tail feathers, dude. I’m getting weird looks from this girl in a Def Leppard shirt.’

Sometimes, he was pretty sure he loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the ask, Anon, and thank you, everyone, for reading and enjoying LowRes and Wrench. I never thought I'd have so many words put into the two of them. But I love them so much and I'm just so happy others do too! If you have the time, I'd love to hear what you think - good and bad! <3
> 
> Thank you to Darth Fucamus for taking the time to read through this cluster fuck for me.
> 
> [PILLOWFORT](https://www.pillowfort.io/brimbrimbrimbrim)   
>  [CURIOUS Cat (for asks)](https://curiouscat.me/brimbrimbrimbrim)   
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